By Proxy
by jyorraku
Summary: Malcolm gives Trip some very simple instructions.


Title: By Proxy

Author: jyorraku

E-Mail: R

Category: Drama

Codes: R/S, Tu

Summary: Malcolm gives Trip some very simple instructions.

Notes: I decided a long time ago that I didn't know how to write Trip. Trip's charm is very difficult for me to grasp. Some people coughJocough make it look so easy. Here's to being adventurous, and hopefully, fruitful. Mara, as usual, rocks the house as the Beta Goddess.

By Proxy

Don't tell her.

The three words were simple. It was a command. No 'please, sir', something that would have humbled him and given me a warped sense of obligation. No 'please, Trip', not appealing to our friendship, the camaraderie established somewhere between my engines and his phase cannons. Just three words strung together by my subordinate, my co-worker, and my friend, Malcolm Reed.

It would have been damn easy to follow his order. Wishes of the departed are no-brainers. Dead people have it easy that way. Whatever he might have done, would have done... As my mama would always say, you've gotta have respect for the deceased. Right now it was hard to respect the man that was lying prone on the table, now and forever, dead. Especially when I wanted to beat the crap out of him for dying.

I rubbed a tear away, stinging as salt and water burned across my cheek. The sensation was welcomed. Yet it was another reminder that I was alive and he was not. Phlox had said something about survivor's guilt. I wondered why he didn't say something about how I've come to hate the drumming of my own beating heart because it was not strong enough to beat for the both of us.

I stood there, for a good while. The doctor didn't complain. Finally, she came, not long after announcement. She stood over him, crying silently. Hoshi Sato, our Communications officer, an engaging sun to a certain Armory officer's laconic moon. And though they had not been on the best of terms lately, she asked me if any of his last words were for her. His instruction pounded dully in my head. I rolled the practiced response around on my tongue, the final answer lacking only in a voice.

I could say 'no' and that would be it. My debt to the dead man, paid in full.

Because, Malcolm, you told me not to tell her.

The word would not come out, but the item in my pocket weighed heavily on me. He didn't want anyone to find it and raise questions. The downside was, he had to tell me why he had it in his possession. The upside was, I was obliged to follow his dying request. When it came time to perform, however, clearly I was having problems.

Hoshi took my silence as reply. She gave me a watery and self-deprecating smile, chiding herself for wanting the words I couldn't give. But when she move away, I surprised myself by seizing her arm. I realized what I was going to do when she looked at me askance.

I took out the small velvet box Malcolm had given to me, in his last breath, no less, and opened it. In the box sat a ring which I proceeded to extract from the setting. I kept my head down, my eyes averted, her reaction was not mine to see. I only saw the slight tremble of her hand, as the ring slipped wistfully over her finger. It was a perfect fit, Malcolm would have been proud.

She cried on my shoulder, drowning in all the things that could have been but will never be. Wishing and hoping, to no avail. But maybe remembering him a little longer than she would have.

You shouldn't have told her.

I didn't.

Semantics.

I didn't tell her. I didn't tell her that your recent avoidance of her was not a harbinger of separation, that it was in the quiet solitude of your mind your love for her became loud and clear. And after our little three-hour tour to that harmless asteroid belt, you were going to love her for the rest of your life. You were hoping she would promise to love you for the rest of hers. And when that life of yours was cut short, you decided there was no point in asking for that promise when you had nothing to offer in return. You told me not to tell her. So I didn't tell her.

I didn't tell her shit. Not one word.

The ring shimmered on her finger.

You know why?

Because, Malcolm, you son of a bitch, you deserve it.

End.


End file.
